


Sometime Around Midnight

by Writteraddict



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Implied Underage, M/M, Snape is a sad drunk, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writteraddict/pseuds/Writteraddict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nearly New Years eve and Snape gets caught up in a mistake he made when Harry joins the party. A song fic, based off of the great tune, some time around midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometime Around Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: So this is officially my first in the fandom. I’ve started a few but as I was watching TV tonight I was struck with the sudden urge to listen to the song Sometime Around Midnight by Airborne Toxic Event. Then as I was listening I knew I had to write a short little fic for the Snarry fans out there based on the song. I recommend putting on repeat for while you read as I did for writing it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, the characters, the verse, the books, the movies or the song, sometime after midnight.

It was almost midnight and the New Year’s frivolity was in full swing. Witches and wizards of all ages eating, drinking and dancing in celebration of the first full year of peace. Severus spent most of the night sequestered by the bar, letting the slow burn of firewhiskey sooth his ire. It was so easy for them to forget, to return to blissful ignorance of what they’d done and what they’d survived. 

Most had earned it though. In the crowd he could see his students, those who had stood shoulder to shoulder with Potter in the final battle. Something that could almost be called a smile creeping onto his lips as he saw Neville dancing close to Ginerva Weasley, impressing her with his skills like he’d done not only at the Yule ball years ago but in the war. His godson’s possessive arm is wrapped, surprisingly, around the Lovegood girl. Their relationship both stunned and confused him to the core, but they would have the most beautiful children, if it ever got that far.

A record number of babies had been born in the past two months. There had been more marriages in the past year than he could count. Everyone wanted to be with someone and who could blame them. They’d become the victorious, the survivors, and life was the spoils of war.

The song from the stage was soothing, echoing Severus’s mood as he lost himself in the crowd, numb from the firewhiskey to the happiness that surrounded him. He’d felt that once, not long ago, but he can’t linger on those thoughts. Just like the lyrics told him, he forgets himself, letting just a bit of the tension he carries in his shoulders and his face melt away. The enchanted piano plays nearby and he feels himself blur completely into the background under the crackling torchlight above the bar.

Hisses shoot through the crowd, disrupting the peaceful moment and Snape’s black eyes are drawn to the commotion. There’s no cause to wonder for long though as the name graces his ears and he spots the new Mrs. Weasley and her redheaded husband taking off across the room to greet their best friend.

The crowds part and there he is, clad in the most pristine white dressrobes anyone has ever seen. The bright bottle green shirt with the high collar like he wears himself beneath them make Potter look like a god, make him look like the wizarding royalty that he is, and Severus can’t help the quick inhalation at his appearance.

He’s never looked more beautiful.

As Potter begins to greet his friends, Severus feels his chest start to tighten and breathing become harder. Those green eyes find him in the crowd with no effort, the way they’d always been able to and he can’t stop staring right back, helpless to look away.

Potter pretends though, laughing at Ron’s joke and smiling up at someone as they hand him a drink and stand intimately close. Severus can’t even tear his eyes away long enough to scrutinize the man who now had a hand resting on Harry’s shoulder. But even though those eyes barely ever raise back to his, he knows that Harry’s watching him just as closely.

“Ten minutes to midnight everyone,” is announced over the microphone and Snape can barely even hear it, his ears full of the sound of his blood pumping through him. “If you have someone to be close to, don’t let them out of your sight.”

It must the be the wine, the room seemed to spin for a moment and Snape rests a hand on the bar. He could swear that he glimpsed Harry moving towards him before the room tilted violently on him.

“Hello, Severus,” Harry murmurs softly as he crosses the rest of the distance between them, his very presence catching Snape off guard. “How are you?” he asks as he comes to a stop in front of the potions master. They stand so close that the elder man can feel the heat rolling off the young body and for one terrifying moment he thinks that tension in his stomach will make him sick the many glasses of nettle wine he’s already consumed that night up, all over those pristine white robes that cling and hang in all the right places on the lithe body.

Licking his lips, Snape can feel his pulse all throughout his body, hear it thumping in his ears. His eyes dilate so wide they’re nothing but a sea of black as the scent of the special fragrance he’d brewed especially for Potter’s body chemistry attacks his senses. The rest of the party slips away and Severus can remember every detail of the body under those white robes, see more clearly than anything that body wrapped up in his arms as they rocked together, finding oblivion in one another in the precious guise of darkness; stolen away to some secret place so they could feel and taste one another one more time.

Snape’s chest rises and falls far more quickly than it should but he’s too lost in all the alcohol he’s consumed to control himself. Nodding jerkily, Severus tries to swallow the lump in his throat that’s preventing him from speaking. He wants to tell Harry how perfect he looks, how good it is to see him happy, even if the latter is a lie.

The young hero smiles weakly, looking at his old professor with an emotion Snape couldn’t even place. The look is sad and vengeful at the same time like he can’t help but feel vindicated that Snape seems to be in worse shape than he is.

“That’s good,” he murmurs, knowing the older man is lying. As desperately as he wanted this moment it’s not quite living up to his expectations, not with that excruciating look he sees in Snape’s onyx eyes. “Well...I should get back. I just thought I’d come say hi,” he breaths, leaning in close so he could brush his full lips against Severus’s cheek.

A gasp parts the older man’s lips again and is released in the softest whisper of the young hero’s name, a desperate plea for mercy even though fingers deftly slip inside the white robes and hold gently to the angular hips.

His mind assaulted with memories, Snape closes his eyes and tries to subtly keep the man close to him as his complete emptiness shifts to overwhelming guilt. There had been nothing quite so perfect and flawed as their coupling, the sheer relief and desire they’d received from one another. Their bodies had fit like no other two bodies in the history of the world, like two perfect circles entwined, an ouroboros, endless infinity.

There were never any declarations of love, just comfort. That was all Severus was good for in such contexts anyway. He’d wanted to ease some of the nightmares from the poor teen’s mind, give Harry a glimpse at how much more there was to life than the thoughts that had plagued the younger man’s brain and the scars that littered that perfect body.

Then Harry pulled back and Severus could see that same flash of betrayal in those emerald depths. He’d meant it for the best, knowing the teen was starting to get attached. He’d stared down at the teen, his eyes cold and told him it was over, trying to ignore the way those perfect orbs drained of life and flooded with tears. It was to protect them both. It would have been so much harder further down the line. 

“Ten, nine, eight...”

The pressure in Severus’s chest became excruciating as he watched Harry rejoin his date, the male adonis that was pulling his ex lover into his arms. He’d wanted this for the younger man, it’s why he’d ended things in the first place but that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Seven, six, five, four...” the crowd chants but all Severus can see was the two perfect faces drawing closer. He’s struck by this horrible feeling of hopelessness and suddenly nowhere felt like it could be home again. Not Hogwarts where their liaison had started or Spinner’s End where they’d spent weekends away, completely lost in one another. The heavy haze of the wine and whiskey make his senses hazy and he wishes once again that he’d died in the Shrieking Shack. This new world was for the living; he was underqualified.

“Three, two, one, HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

As Harry and his new lover’s lips met, Severus could feel a pain even worse than when he’d broken the young wizard’s heart. If there was enough of his soul left to split he could have made his own horcrux. Then those green eyes look back at him as Harry whispers to his lover and they make a couple of hasty goodbyes and head towards the doors, obviously eager to depart for a more private celebration. Severus watches them go, his fingers itching to pull out his wand and hex the new man in his Harry’s life into oblivion as he thinks about other hands on that body that he’d been the first to claim.

“Oh Severus,” Minerva murmurs, approaching him with a smile. “Happy new year! Severus? What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she asks, obviously concerned.

Severus doesn’t answer her, he can’t, knowing that if he opens his mouth he’ll be sick. Instead he dashes towards the door of the beautiful hall, shoving people aside as he tried to escape the cloistering crowd. He was pushing through wards, pushing through the magical boundaries until the blaring sounds of muggle London assault him and he gasps in deep breaths of polluted air. He staggers down the street, pushing himself off walls and past people as he tries to escape from himself. The street lights above him guide him deeper into a forgotten world and he’s ignorant of the stares he gets for his robes and his over inebriated state. He doesn’t care.

He just wants to see Harry one more time, even if it’s the last thing he does. He knows there’s nothing he has left to offer a man like Potter in the real world. In their personal, little existence they’d shared he’d given everything he could but that wasn’t enough when he knew what the world expected of Harry.

Stumbling into an alley he takes a huge, deep breath before finally letting that sickness spill from his stomach as his world falls and realization hits him like the weight of the astronomy tower. Harry is gone, he’s found someone who makes him happy, just like he’d wanted for the man.

A rough sob pulls from his throat and he falls to his own filth, on his hands and knees as he gasps for air and gags in horror. What’s the point in going on now? As he collapses onto his back he wonders idly if he should force an air bubble into his bloodstream from the dirty, muggle needle he can see a few feet away and stretches his hand futilely towards it. He can only choke out breaths now and he’s unaware of the tears pouring down his face.

“Flipendo,” is murmured and the syringe bounces further away from his hand. An angel dressed in white and green is leaning over him, checking his eyes and tenderly touching his face.

“You’ve given yourself alcohol poisoning,” Harry whispers gently, his robes staining from the filth on the ground in the alley and Severus can’t help but think that’s what he’s done to the man, stained him, tainted something that was still pure.

“Stupid man,” Harry sighs, brushing away the tears that the professor doesn’t even know he is shedding. It sounds just the same way Severus used to admonish Harry when he was a boy.

“I should hate you, you broke my heart,” the young man murmurs, gently pushing a lock of black hair away from his face. “I guess I can forgive you with the knowledge that you love me enough you’d rather kill yourself than go on without me.”

He doesn’t apologize, it would be pale compared to what Harry deserves. but he turns his face into the younger man’s palm, nuzzling it longingly, not even sure if what is happening is real.

“Come home Severus. It isn’t a home without you there.”

He clumsily captures his love’s hand in both of his, holding it to his face and kissing along the heel and the soft skin of the wrist for a minute before letting Harry haul him to his feet. They’re not okay, not yet. But this world they saved together is about hope, about the future, and Harry has given of himself again, given him a piece of that hope; given him a chance of a real future.

As they walk together Severus knows this is a chance at something he’s never had before and the new year has cleared his slate of his stupidity and mistakes of a lifetime. As their fingers squeeze together and his head stops spinning, the world stops spinning, and he once again has the peace that he’d only found in Potter.


End file.
